Son to son
by FreudFreak
Summary: When Huang's interaction with a patient leaves him feeling vulnerable, Liv lends him her ear. Post-ep for Mother (season 5). is giving me formatting trouble; sorry for any inconvenience while this gets ironed out]
1. Chapter 1

Huang had suspected from the start that the young man would reach out to him. Michael's pain was palpable, even to the detectives peering in through the bars of his cell. Still, Huang stiffened when Michael gripped his waist and pulled him close. Huang had forgotten what it was like, being close.

While Michael's therapist had turned out to be an utter crock, her diagnosis had been correct: above all else, Michael needed a mother. Maternal abuse had shaped his emotional tendencies, maternal lack now dominated his life. If the damage could be corrected, if Michael could find a way to fill that immense void, he had a chance at contentment.

But this barred chamber was no womb, and Huang was no mother. No. Huang-the shrink was a psychiatrist: a scholar and a master of control. His job description did not include back-patting and hair-smoothing. Instead, he was trained to probe gently with words and to nurture through the creation of catharsis

Moreover, Huang-the-person was not much of a toucher. He had come from a family that, while loving, did not encourage the physical expression of affection. Huang treasured the touches of those he loved, and quietly admired the casual intimacy between Benson and Stabler. But without an intuitive grasp of the norms of interpersonal contact, he was comfortable neither initiating nor participating in extended physical contact.

Still, he found himself grasping Michael's shoulder, patting the younger man awkwardly as the accidental criminal cried into his suit jacket. Huang looked to the two detectives outside of the cell, and Benson caught his eye, a strange expression on her face. Was it pity? He couldn't tell.

He waited patiently, if uncomfortably, for Michael to cry himself out. The young man sobbed into Huang's tie for several minutes, burying his forehead in the psychiatrist's sternum. After he'd quieted, an orderly in a crisp white shirt let himself into the cell.

"Let's get you to bed, huh?"

Michael nodded, and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He stumbled out of the cell with the orderly, silently looking back at Huang with haunted eyes.

Huang picked himself up and breathed deeply before walking over to the detectives. Benson spoke first.

"Want a ride back to the station? We've got some paperwork to finish up."

"Sure. I do too."


	2. Chapter 2

The usually-busy room was empty, and when Benson tossed her keys on her desk, the sound resounded throughout.

"Do you want to work upstairs?" she asked Huang. "I'd offer you a desk down here, but we've trashed the place these last few days."

"That'd be great," he responded. "Let me know if you need anything from me."

She nodded as he started up the stairs, and transferred her gaze to her partner, who was in the process of shrugging off his coat.

"El, go home."

Stabler grinned, a roguish smile crossing his face. "What, and let you have all the fun? Not a chance, partner."

"Come on, I mean it." She grasped his lapels, firmly pulling his coat back on. "There's no reason for both of us to be up all night." She picked a stray thread off his coat and quirked a grin.

"All right. But I take the next one, yeah?"

"Sure."

Stabler grasped his partner's shoulder, and with a quiet, "thanks, Liv," he turned and left the room, nodding up to the doctor on his way out.

Half an hour later, Benson called up to her colleague.

"Hey Doc, do you have Michael's mother's maiden name anywhere? The DA's office needs it for their files."

After a silent pause, she tried again.

"Doc?" Still nothing. She put down her pen and climbed the stairs. At the top, she was surprised to find Huang with his paperwork half-done, his head in his hands.

"Doc, you okay?" He looked up, startled.

"What? Oh. Thank you; I'm fine."

She sat down next to him on the couch, propping her feet on the table. "You sure? This case was a little rough on shrinks."

He studied his hands for a long moment before answering. Olivia was his colleague, not his friend or his therapist; as a professional, he knew he ought to be careful revealing his feelings.

But he was tired and vulnerable and had spent the last hour trying to remember the last time someone had put their arms around him like he had put his arms around Michael. So instead of giving her a bullshit answer about long hours and the cold jailroom floor, he told her the truth. Part of it, at least.

"It's just that I find it unconscionable, what Dr. Heints did to Michael. She used an unproven methodology to try to treat her patient, and it did him more harm than good. She may have done irreparable damage to his psyche."

She gave him a hard look. "But that's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

Benson wasn't a shrink, but she was a damn good cop. He sighed, caught.

"Not entirely. I have to admit that I was caught off guard when Michael reached out to me. I'm not very comfortable being physical with my patients."

"Is it against the rules?"

"Theoretically, comforting someone in crisis isn't completely off-limits. But touch is a powerful factor-it makes everything much more personal."

Olivia nodded. "Yeah. I get that."

Hoang was startled to find his throat tightening, his eyes filling with tears.

Olivia cocked her head and looked at him with surprise. "Doc?"


End file.
